


i'd rather be in trouble with you

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Daisy has horrible taste in porn, Dick Pics, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexting, but it's lesbian porn?, so at least it's on-brand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 07:31:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14995910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: In which Daisy has bad taste in porn, but Bobbi has great taste in sexting partners.





	i'd rather be in trouble with you

It’s been a long fucking month. Bobbi and Daisy have spent ages on this reconnaissance mission, and even though Bobbi can handle the physical demands on the job, emotionally, it’s starting to get a little exhausting. She and Daisy are surveying in shifts, so they’re hardly ever together, and when they are, they can’t speak. The lack of human interaction is beginning to drive her a little insane.

Her one saving grace is Hunter, even though she hates to say it. For once, his insistence on checking in on her, even when she’s on missions, is welcome rather than suffocating. Bobbi’s established that they’re not going to phone each other due to the myriad of safety issues it introduces into the equation, but texting is permissible. She taps out a quick message to him as she walks back to the hotel she and Daisy are staying.

_ [Bobbi]: You still awake?  _

It’s just after two in the morning (thank goodness they’re still in the same timezone), so she won’t be surprised if he doesn’t respond. Two minutes later, she’s in the elevator on the way up to their room and Bobbi figures if he hasn’t replied by now, he’s not going to. Just as well, Bobbi thinks with a soft sigh. She probably should sleep, even if she’s not particularly tired. She doesn’t want to acknowledge the disappointment that’s creeping up her throat, but Bobbi can’t ignore the sharp shock of happiness that hits her when her phone vibrates.

_ [Hunter]: Now I am _

_ [Bobbi]: Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you _

She frowns at her phone as she pushes open the door to the hotel room. Guilt replaces the disappointment lodged in her throat, since she really hadn’t intended on ruining Hunter’s sleep. Bobbi can’t help but hope that he’ll stay awake now, though - she could really use the company.

Bobbi flops on the bed, noting that it’s rumpled but still made. Daisy must have slept on top of the duvet. Lance still hasn’t texted back, and Bobbi wonders if he just rolled over and went back to sleep. She wouldn’t blame him. Bobbi reaches for the TV remote on the end table, hoping that the news will help lull her to sleep.

When she turns on the TV, it’s not on the news channel. Bobbi stares at the screen for a long, long time.

_ [Hunter]: It’s fine. Just had to turn on the light so I won’t fall asleep again _

_ [Bobbi]: And that took you three minutes? _

_ [Bobbi]: You’ll never guess what’s on the television screen right now _

_ [Hunter]: I may or may not have tripped on the way to the switch. And before you don’t ask, I’m fine, thanks _

_ [Hunter]: No, I won’t. Tell? _

_ [Bobbi]: It starts with p and ends with orn _

_ [Hunter]: Is this where you troll me by saying popcorn? _

Bobbi wished that she could tell Hunter that it was popcorn on the television screen, but it’s… definitely not. Bobbi thinks she probably should be creeped out by the fact that her partner left porn on the television that they’re sharing, but she just can’t manage the feeling. Instead, she’s amused.

Instead of answering Hunter’s text with words, she snaps a quick photo of the screen and sends it to him.

_ [Hunter]: Well, it doesn’t look like very good porn _

Bobbi agrees, personally. One of the girls is obviously in the middle of faking an orgasm and the other looks like she’s in pain - and not in the good, kinky way. Sometime, she’s going to have to talk to Daisy about her taste in porn.

_ [Bobbi]: Think you can do better? _

_ [Hunter]: … Barbara Ann, is that a request for a dick pic? _

It honestly hadn’t been - Bobbi had just expected Hunter to go on Pornhub or something and send her a screenshot of some equally questionable pornography. But now that Hunter’s suggested - offered? - to send a picture of himself, Bobbi can’t get the thought of her head. She considers telling him the truth, but she knows Hunter won’t send the picture if she does. He’s an asshole, but unsolicited dick pics are not his style.

_ [Bobbi]: Yes. _

She’s very aware of the punctuation she put at the end of the text. She never ends texts with periods unless she’s angry, and Bobbi does  _ not _ want to have an argument with Hunter about whether or not she’s upset with him when she’s about to start masturbating to the thought of him sending pictures of himself.

Speaking of - Bobbi shucks off her jeans, throwing them on the floor, and then climbs under the covers of the hotel bed. She and Daisy are never in the room at the same time, so she doesn’t  _ need _ to hide for fear of being caught… but it feels oddly performative to stay on top of the covers, especially with the girls on the television staring down at her. Bobbi reaches over to turn the TV back off, and relaxes. Now it’s just her and her hand - and Hunter, if he decides to join. 

Bobbi’s fingers slide down her stomach and between her legs. She pets herself over top of her underwear, not applying much pressure. It’s been a few days since she’s gotten off, but Bobbi’s always been better at the slow burn, at least when she’s by herself. With Hunter, it’s different - neither of them are good at slowing down when it comes to each other, and sometimes she swears he’s made a game of how fast he can make her cum. (Bobbi knows his record, but she’s almost embarrassed to think about it.)

A slow hiss escapes from between her teeth when she thinks of Hunter, because once again he’s taking  _ way _ too long to respond, and she’s horny, damnit.

Her phone vibrates, and Bobbi wastes no time in opening the picture he’s attached sans comment. Hunter’s not a master photographer by any means, but he doesn’t need to be good at photography when his subject matter is so compelling. His cock is erect, lying flat against his stomach, which means the picture also shows an impressive view of Hunter’s abs. Bobbi hums her approval of the picture, aware that she’s going to have to reconsider her slow burn approach. 

The original look at the picture had been enough to send a spike of arousal through her - a Pavlovian reaction, Bobbi tries to tell herself - but the longer she stares at it, the more the desire mounts. There’s details she didn’t notice the first time around, like how flushed his cock is and how it’s faintly shining with what must be lube. She presses her fingers harder as she strokes herself through her underwear, but she doesn’t have time to establish a steady rhythm before her phone buzzes again.

_ [Hunter]: Okay? _

_ [Bobbi]: More. Please _

She doesn’t say that word often, and Hunter knows that. Bobbi lays her phone against her stomach so she can strip off her top and her bra, which join the jeans in a heap on the floor. After thinking for a moment, Bobbi takes off her underwear, too. Fuck slow burn - she’s turned on and her ex-husband has a beautiful dick that he seems happy to share with her, so why not go a little faster than usual?

Bobbi knows that she’s wet, but she surprises herself with just  _ how _ wet as she slides a finger inside herself. She’s about to add a second finger when her phone vibrates against the bare skin of her stomach. Her abs seize at the sudden sensation and Bobbi can’t help but let out a soft, “ _ Oh _ .”

He’s sent a video this time, and Bobbi’s mouth goes dry the moment she opens it. Hunter’s hand is curled loosely around his cock, and he flicks his wrist, stroking slowly but firmly. She watches, transfixed, as a drip of precum slides down the side. Hunter uses his thumb to spread it across the head of his cock, and -

That’s where the video stops.

_ [Bobbi]: Tease! _

It doesn’t matter, though, because the video has given her brain plenty of fodder. Her fingers slip in and out easily, and Bobbi curls them slightly so her fingertips graze the one spot inside her that Hunter always looks for (and always finds). She flicks her thumb against her clit, biting her lip to keep any sound from escaping. 

Another message from Hunter comes through, and Bobbi snatches her phone from its position beside her on the bed, stilling her fingers for just a moment so she can focus on watching.

When the second video starts, though, Bobbi’s hand begins to move of its own accord, the thrusts of her fingers matching the timing of Hunter’s hand on his cock. It’s faster than the first video, noticeably so, and Bobbi’s breath catches in her throat as she thinks about Hunter climbing towards release while imagining her.

“ _ Bobbi _ .” His voice comes out of her phone’s speaker without warning, and her hips jump at the sound. She can’t keep quiet anymore, releasing her lip from between her teeth so she can let out a gasp of pleasure. 

_ [Bobbi]: Don’t stop _

_ [Bobbi]: More noises _

He isn’t replying to her texts anymore, but Bobbi figures that’s because he’s too busy focusing on his cinematography skills. She’d rather have more video clips than have to respond to his smarmy texts, anyways. She’s sure if he  _ was _ responding to her he would’ve made a comment about how she’s bossy even over text, and Bobbi chuckles to herself as she continues to move her fingers. 

The pattern she’s established is strange; she’ll chase herself closer to orgasm whenever she’s watching one of his videos, but when she’s not, Bobbi just maintains her arousal instead of trying to ramp things up. Everyone thinks that she’s the dominant one in her relationship with Hunter, and for the most part, she is, but occasionally Bobbi likes being submissive. Even though this isn’t a scene, it has echoes of one. She’s giving him power over her, even if he doesn’t know it.

The next video Hunter sends is longer than the other two, and that alone has Bobbi panting. The angle has changed slightly, and about two seconds into it Bobbi figures out why - the sound’s much clearer now. She can hear every breath that Hunter takes, and the way he trips over his breathing when he closes his fist tighter around his cock. 

“Bobbi.” He moans her name again, and the effect it has on her would be embarrassing, if Bobbi was the sort to get embarrassed. Her entire body arches upward into her hand at the sound, forcing her palm to grind against her clit and her fingers to press hard against her inner walls.

“Holy shit,  _ Hunter _ .” She whimpers, even though he can’t hear her, nor respond. She closes her eyes, overwhelmed by sensation but unable to focus it in such a way to make herself orgasm.

“Bob.” Hunter’s voice repeats over the speaker, sending her hips rocketing towards the ceiling for the third time. This time she’s more prepared, and she’s able to give herself the right angle and right amount of friction, driving herself closer to bliss. Bobbi’s eyes shoot open when the sound cuts out, and she makes a frustrated noise when she sees the video’s ended.

But there’s a new text.

_ [Hunter]: Can I cum? _

_ [Bobbi]: Yes _

She doesn’t hesitate in her response, because she knows that is what she needs: she needs to see him fall apart and know she’s the reason for it.

Bobbi stays lingering just short of orgasm until the final installment of Lance’s impromptu pornography appears on her phone screen. She is  _ ready _ , physically and mentally, to cum.

Bobbi spent the last twenty minutes, give or take, griping internally about her ex-husband’s lack of camera skills, but there’s something about this last video that’s just plain beautiful. She’s pretty sure it’s just the endorphins talking, but she doesn't care. If endorphins make her wax poetic about a video of Hunter’s dick, so be it.

It’s impossible for her to hold her breath - physiology just demands that she keep oxygen pumping in and out so that she can move her hand and give some level of organization to her muddled thoughts - but if she could have, Bobbi would have. The anticipation of the moment is eating her alive. She knows Lance wouldn’t have sent the video if he hadn’t finished, but time feels different now, and she doesn’t know how long she waited for his response, or how long the video will be.

Bobbi keeps thinking that it’s about to happen, sure that every time Lance snaps his hips into his hand that  _ this _ will be the one to make him cum. She winds herself tighter and tighter as she watches and waits, every movement edged with urgency and suspense.

Lance cums with a groan in the video, and all it takes is one more frantic press of her thumb to her clit for Bobbi to explode, her eyes rolling back in her head as she lets out a wrecked sob. The return to her senses happens more slowly than usual, and Bobbi’s surprised that a full five minutes have passed since Lance sent the video (which is itself only two minutes long). Bobbi shivers slightly, but forces her mind away from the videos so that she can type out a quick message to Hunter.

_ [Bobbi]: You’re right. You did do better _

She thinks for a moment before sending a second message.

_ [Bobbi]: Not that I ever doubted it _

Hunter’s already got a big head, but he had just helped her to her best masturbation session in ages, so Bobbi doesn’t mind inflating it a bit further.

_ [Hunter]: I miss you _

_ [Bobbi]: That’s just the chemicals talking _

_ [Hunter]: You keep telling yourself that _

Bobbi sighs, and deletes the reply she had finished before she sends it, once again to avoid an argument. He’s right, though - she doesn’t want to deal with the touchy-feely stuff right now, and blaming Hunter’s sentimental message on the cocktail of post-orgasmic hormones is just… easier.

_ [Hunter]: I’m going back to bed if you don’t need me _

She doesn’t need to be a genius to figure out that he’s upset, and Bobbi tries to ignore the twisting in her stomach. She busies herself with cleaning up and going through the rest of her nighttime routine, allowing twenty minutes to pass before she responds.

_ [Bobbi]: I miss you too _

She turns on her alarm, plugs her phone in, and shuts off the light. Bobbi stares at the ceiling for too long, sleep eluding her despite the exhaustion that sinks heavy into her bones. She sighs, and turns on the light again.

Bobbi shuffles across the hotel floor and begins rummaging through her duffel, finding a familiar ratty t-shirt at the bottom. 

She feels ridiculous as she climbs back into bed, cradling the shirt close to her chest, but it’s high time that she admitted to herself that she does indeed miss Lance Hunter. She misses him a  _ lot _ , which is why it was so much easier to first blame his feelings on hormones and then wait for him to sleep before reciprocating. Bobbi doesn’t want her walls to be broken down; she built them for a reason.

Bobbi buries her nose in the folds of the fabric, inhaling deeply. It smells more like her than him now, but it’s all she has.

She’s asleep in seconds.

**Author's Note:**

> One day, I might be able to write smut without any feelings. But today is NOT THAT DAY!
> 
> If you'd like to follow me on my kink bingo journey, you can see my progress on [this page of my tumblr](https://huntxngbxrd.tumblr.com/kinkbingo)! Feedback very much appreciated because I am still painfully new at this. :)


End file.
